


To Kiss the Fingers of the Rain

by TheScholarlyStrumpet (equipoise)



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: A Monthly Rumbelling, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-23
Updated: 2017-03-23
Packaged: 2018-10-09 10:27:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,598
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10410108
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/equipoise/pseuds/TheScholarlyStrumpet
Summary: At his cabin in the woods, Mr. Gold is drowning his sorrows. A storm rises and there comes an unexpected knock at the door....The March smut prompt forA Monthly Rumbelling:Storm, Adultery, Warmth, Loneliness, Rough





	

**Author's Note:**

> Title from "Renascence" by Edna St. Vincent Millay

Mr. Gold poked sulkily at the dying fire. He needed to put on another log but he barely felt like leaving the chair, his limbs heavy with the bottle of red wine he'd almost polished off entirely.

He eyed the blanket on the back of the nearby sofa, noting with vague disinterest as lightning flashed through the half open blinds behind it. He exhaled loudly and glanced down at the book that lay open in his lap. He'd probably read the same page three times by now but he couldn't seem to recall what it said. Rain began to patter against the window. Earlier, he'd had half a mind to watch the sun set by the lake but the sky had turned so gray, it hadn't been worth the effort of getting up.

It was nearly night but he wasn't sleepy enough to retire to the lonely little bed in the next room. Maybe he'd sleep in front of the fire, if the sofa wouldn't be hell on his bad leg. Maybe the rain would help, a little soothing ambient noise to drown out the roiling storm in his mind.

He drained the glass beside him and refilled it, noting another flash of lightning and counting the seconds until the roll of thunder to gauge the distance. The raindrops were heavier now, pelting hard. They almost sounded like tapping. Or was that knocking?

“Hello? Can anyone hear me?” A familiar voice was calling on the other side of the door. A female voice. With an accent he wouldn't soon forget.

He launched himself to both feet, leaning awkwardly on his cane and nearly knocking over the antique table beside his chair.

“I'll… I'll be right there…” he called, his pulse rocketing and head spinning from standing up so fast. He narrowly skirted the sofa arm by pivoting, sending a shooting pain up his bad leg. Grimacing and biting back a few choice words, he made it to the door and flung it open.

Outside stood exactly the person he had hoped- _feared?_ \- might be there. Miss Belle French, librarian by trade, bookworm by choice, and the unwitting object of his most cherished fantasies. She was drenched from head to toe.

“Mr. Gold!” She exclaimed in a tone he liked to think was pleasant surprise. “I'm so glad you're here!”

“Miss French,” he greeted her in return, trying hard (well maybe not that hard) not to notice that the floral print shirt she wore was plastered to her like a second skin. Even in the dying firelight, he could see the line of her polka dotted bra.

She shifted from one foot to the other, placing one hand on the doorframe. “Um, would it be… that is, can I come in?”

He realized he'd be gaping at her like a pished fish and felt his cheeks go hot as he stepped back to let her in. “Oh! Of course.”

“Thank you!”

She scurried past and he blinked at her back wondering if perhaps he'd already fallen asleep and this was an alcohol induced dream. If so, he very much hoped he wasn't waking up anytime soon.

Slinging a small backpack to the ground, Belle knelt immediately before the fire and lifted her hands toward it. “Do you mind if I add another log?” She glanced over her shoulder at him.

He reminded himself that she wasn't here to be ogled, she'd simply sought the shelter of his cabin in the rising storm. “Not at all. I was just about to do the same.”

She gave a sigh of relief and pulled a log from the pile, prodding it with the poker until it caught and the flames danced higher. Sitting back on her heels, she lifted her sopping hair up off her neck and bent toward the hearth. “I'm so sorry to just drop in on you like this, Mr. Gold.”

Her back arched and his eyes were drawn to the delicious curve of her backside, accentuated by the way her denim shorts clung. He caught the movement of her half-turning to face him just in time to avert his gaze and shuffle toward the hall cabinet in search of towels.

“No matter, Miss French. Here, I'm afraid I've only got a few towels but there are some extra blankets…” he held the towel toward her and she jumped to her feet to take it.

“You are a lifesaver. I mean it. I feel like such an idiot getting caught out there so unprepared.” Her face had regained some color from the heat of the fire but the rest of her was still soaked through. He forced himself to look only at her face. Her eyes. Such beautiful eyes… blue as the ocean and just as capable of drowning a man… Fuck, he needed to slap himself sober before he started spouting poetry at her.

He cleared his throat. “Does seem like an… ill advised time for a casual stroll.”

“It wasn't supposed to rain today according to the morning forecast. And it's my day off so I thought a hike would be nice.” She made a broad hand gesture. “So here I was just traipsing through the woods, not paying the least bit of attention. Next thing I know, it's pouring and I had forgotten to even pack my emergency poncho! I was never a Girl Scout but you'd think I would know better...” An exaggerated sigh. “I'm really quite embarrassed. I hope you won't hold this against me, Mr. Gold…” She looked up at him from under her lashes.

There were a great many things Gold wanted to hold against Belle French, this was not one of them.

He shrugged and muttered something noncommittal. If he couldn't seem think in anything but innuendo or prose, it was best he spoke as little as possible.

Belle frowned and looked at the floor briefly before glancing around. “Where is the bathroom?”

He pointed and Belle ducked her head in silent thanks as she clutched the towel to her chest and head the direction he indicated.

He made his way back to his chair and scrubbed at his unshaven face with both hands. Oh fuck, he was so fucking fucked. How on earth was he going to get through however long this storm would be without saying something truly regrettable? He needed to sober up, and fast. But the only things he had on hand to eat were cans of soup, beans, and a container of some kind of fancy trail mix that Cora had eaten in the brief period of time she deigned to visit the cabin with him. Before her latest boy toy and the trip to Las Vegas she didn't think he knew about.

Fucking Cora.

He glared down at the wedding ring on his left hand. He twisted it with the opposite hand, giving it a sharp tug, but the damn thing wouldn’t budge. He’d have to try again with some soap or olive oil. No need to leave the horrible reminder of his most recent mistake on any longer than was necessary.

Earlier that day, with the aid of his driver, he'd packed all Cora’s things into boxes and left half of them in the hall with a note telling her to vacate the premises and call his lawyer if she ever wanted to see the other half. Staying at the cabin overnight had been an added precaution. He fully expected to come home to at least a few broken antiques. They were worth the price of getting her out of his life for good.

He was tired of feeling like a damn fool. Tired of looking for warmth in a heart made of ice. Tired and maudlin and drunk as hell. No fit company at all for the lively librarian currently drying off in his bathroom.

He'd had several conversations with Belle in the years since she moved to Storybrooke and they'd never gone quite as smoothly as he would have hoped. Often enough he found himself on the wrong side of tongue tied but she never seemed to mind. She laughed at the ridiculous jokes he made and could be persuaded to chat for quite some time just by being asked what she was currently reading.

To most the citizens of their little town, he was a silver tongued serpent, robbing them blind through the clever use of legal jargon they didn't understand or bother to question when they were desperate to make a deal. The willful ignorance of others had made him a rich man, if not a popular one. Since he'd never suffered fools well, it hadn't seemed to matter. Until little Miss Belle showed up, campaigning to reopen the library and forcing Gold to remember he once valued some things more than money or power.

“I suppose it's probably too much to ask if you have a dryer in here, yeah?” Belle's question preceded her into the room.

“Low tech out here, I'm afraid.”

Gold was shaking his head when he caught sight of her. In a towel. His towel. With - presumably - nothing beneath it.

His mouth went dry and he reached for his wine glass before remembering that getting more intoxicated would probably only make things even more awkward.

He silently watched her lay out her damp clothes in front of the hearth and fancied a life where she had been his invited guest rather than an accidental one. They might have walked to the lake together, hurrying back as fast as his leg would allow once the rain began. They'd have laughed as they peeled away one another's soaked clothes, maybe taken a hot shower together before starting the fire. They'd have fallen asleep curled beneath a pile of blankets.

A lump rose suddenly in his throat. He choked it back and pulled himself to his feet. “I was going to make some soup. Would you like some?”

She looked up, a smile spreading across her face. “Oh! Yes please. What kind?”

He blinked. “The canned kind.”

Belle laughed, one hand coming to her mouth. “I meant what flavor. But honestly it doesn't matter. Anything hot would be delightful. Can I help?”

“No, no. You're the guest. Just… enjoy the fire.” The last thing he needed was a half naked Belle in the kitchenette. He might burn the whole place down.

“You're very generous, Mr. Gold.”

He scoffed. “Careful who you say that to in this town. They'll have you committed.” He poured two cans of chicken noodle soup into a pot, added water, and turned on the stove.

“I'm serious. You were such a help with the library and my reading initiative for the school. And...” Her voice was closer now. “I know about the shelter, you know...”

He turned, this time, sincerely surprised. “What shelter?”

“The one you pretend not to know Leroy and Astrid are running.” She had indeed moved closer, leaning her hip against the one unoccupied counter in the kitchen nook. “In the old Fogarty manor that you somehow never manage to sell despite some very valuable offers.”

Gold swallowed hard, absentmindedly stirring the soup. He'd been tempted to sell that house at the edge of town dozens of times, seeing as how he was stuck for property taxes on it, year after year. But he could never find it in himself to kick out the makeshift shelter/soup kitchen Leroy and his former nun fiancée were running. He'd never mentioned to anyone that he knew, just looked the other way and occasionally arranged for anonymous donations to show up at their door.

He wanted to lie to Belle, deny that he had any knowledge of the place. But her eyes caught him and pierced him through to the heart. He looked away and shrugged. “They do good work.”

“And you help them do it,” Belle supplied matter of factly.

“Not selling a building is hardly helping,” he countered.

She moved closer, laying a hand in his arm. “Then why do you let them keep using it?”

His lips pressed tight together as he stared down at the simmering soup. Why hadn't he sold that house? Because he still remembered nights of trying to sleep with a growling belly because papa drank or gambled away the grocery budget. He remembered having to choose between rent and food and the times when there wasn't enough for either.

“Because no one deserves to go hungry,” he admitted at last, his voice rougher than he'd expected. When he ventured another look at Belle, her eyes were bright and her smile soft. No woman had ever looked at him like that, not even his wives.

When she spoke, her voice was low, as well, barely above a whisper. “I always knew you were a good man.”

The urge to disagree pulled at his tongue but with her eyes were keeping him captive, he couldn't seem to say a word. Entranced, he leaned toward her. She was so close, he could capture her lips easily. Time seemed to slow, his blood pumping hard in his ears. Belle's lips parted just slightly, her pupils widening, as her gaze fell to his mouth. And then to his left hand.

As though she'd been burned, she stepped away, releasing his arm. “I… uh, I think the soup is done.”

He settled reluctantly back into reality and nodded, turning off the stove. His heart still thundering in his chest, louder than the storm, he served up the soup. Belle curled into a blanket on the sofa and Gold returned to his chair. They ate in uneasy silence.

The fog of the wine began to ebb away, at last, as Gold snuck glances toward the sofa. It was only a few feet, but Belle seemed miles away from where she'd been only moments ago. He'd very nearly kissed her. And she'd very nearly let him. He was still chewing on this revelation when he realized she had spoken.

“Sorry?” He asked.

“I was just wondering… thinking aloud really… what had brought you up here tonight? I hike past here all the time, but I think this is the first time I've seen you since…” her voice trailed off and she gazed into the fire listlessly.

Curiosity got the better of him. “Since when?”

“Since that day I ran into Cora and she… um, asked me not to hike onto your property ever again.” She finished, fiddling with her spoon.

Gold winced. “Did she threaten you?”

Belle shrugged. “Only with calling Sheriff Graham. I know he'd have laughed it off but it didn't seem worth it to… risk her wrath.”

A snort of laughter escaped him before he could stop it. Then another. Then his shoulders were shaking and the laughter was coming from deep within his gut, part humor and part pain. His eyes pricked with tears as he half doubled in the chair.

Belle looked on in what might have been horrified amusement if he could read her expression through his blurry sight. “Mr. Gold?”

When he could breathe enough to manage words, he chortled out, “I always knew you were smarter than I… Oh christ!” He ran one hand through his hair, swiping at his eyes with the other. A few more low chuckles and he was finally able to meet her eyes. “I’m... I’m sorry Belle, you must think me quite mad.”

She gave a half grin, “that’s never stopped me from talking to you before.”

He returned her grin, feeling oddly lighter than he had in days. “Touche.”

“Can I get in on the joke?”

He took a deep breath, steadying himself. “I’ve left my wife.” Saying the words aloud felt better than he could have imagined.

Belle’s eyes were wide and round as saucers. “When was this?”

“Today, actually. So, speaking of her wrath. I expect to bear quite a lot of it in the coming weeks.”

Belle blinked rapidly. “I’m… I’m so sorry, Mr. Gold.”

He smirked. “I’m not. This has been a long time coming, I promise you.”

“All the same, it can’t be easy.” She set down the soup bowl, shifting in the blankets until she was partially reclined. “I’ve never broken up with anyone.” She laughed softly, “then again, I’ve never really had the chance. I’ve” she looked down at where her hands were twisting in the blanket, “I’ve only ever had one boyfriend - if you can call him that.”

Gold’s eyebrows raised of their own volition. “I admit, I'm surprised to hear it.”

“Why?” Her brow furrowed.

He shrugged. “I can't imagine a girl as beautiful and kind as you wouldn't have to beat men off with a stick.”

Belle flushed prettily, then covered her cheeks with both hands. “Oh! No. I mean, I do get asked out but I retired my beating stick ages ago. Now I just politely decline.”

“Ah that's a pity,” he brandished his cane. “I was going to offer to help.”

Belle giggled. “Maybe if my ex ever comes to town…”

“That bad?”

Belle's mouth twisted. “I thought he was sweet, at first, but that turned out to be just what he wanted me to see.” She sat back up, voice picking up in volume. “Do you know what he told me? He actually had the gall to say that I should feel special because out of all his girlfriends, I was the only brunette.”

“Fucking hell,” his grip on the arm of his chair tightened, feeling a flash of vicious anger at this unknown moron who could possibly treat Belle like something disposable. She deserved to be cherished. “If he could treat you like that, I'd be happy to deliver the beating he deserves. What's his address?”

Belle eyed him for a moment as though she wasn't sure he was entirely joking but then she relaxed, shaking her head. “It's alright, really. I learned a valuable lesson from that mess.”

“Men are scum?” he suggested.

“Never judge a book by its cover. People aren't always who they seem to be and you can't really know what's in a person's heart until you get to know them.”

He couldn't help but smile at her. There was something so pure in this girl. Not naive, as he'd initially suspected, but a genuine kindness. She saw the best in others. Even him. “Is that why you said what you did, earlier? About me being a good man?”

She nodded.

“I'm not, you know,” he reminded her gently. Disillusioning the one person who saw something worthwhile in him would hurt. But this was Belle and he found he just couldn't lie to her.

“I disagree. You let me in from the rain and fed me. You allow the needy be sheltered and fed every day on property that is costing you to maintain - and don't argue with me about that, I know all about property taxes for abandoned buildings from dealing with my dad's old shop.” She rose from the couch and shuffled toward him, the blanket draped over her towel like an overly long toga. “Actions speak louder than words, Mr. Gold.”

He stood as well, his temper beginning to prick him. “Shall I list off all the horrible things I've done in my life? The houses I've foreclosed? The deals I've worded ever so carefully in my favor? The hands I've greased and pockets I've picked?”

Belle threw the hand not holding up the blanket out to one side, palm up. “Do you think I’m a saint? That I’ve never told a lie or two? Made mistakes I regret? That’s being human. I refuse to see anyone as just the sum of their flaws. There is good in you and I see it. I’ve always seen it.”

Gold was practically trembling, the hand not holding his cane clenching and unclenching at his side. This girl didn’t know him at all. How dare she paint this rosy picture based on some deluded fantasy of his merit? How dare she make him want to believe in a fairy tale where he could be anything but the villain. He advanced on her, allowing himself to be as menacing as he knew how to be. “What you see, Miss French, is what you want to see. What you should see is before you right now - this is me.” He gestured to himself. “This is all there is. Just a crippled man with a past full of secrets and regrets. Just the town monster with a gold tooth and a silver tongue, a man who has forgotten what goodness is.”

Belle closed the distance between them, her eyes flashing. “No. You’re wrong.”

Gold made a sound of disbelief at the back of his throat. “And what exactly makes you the expert?” He couldn’t help but notice she was breathtakingly stunning when her temper was up. He clenched his hand tighter.

“Because I can feel it. I see what you can’t even see in yourself!”

Belle’s voice was steadily escalating in tone and volume and he found himself matching it, stepping even closer until they were toe to toe.

“Oh, really? And how is that?” His lips pressed together thinly.

“Because I wouldn’t feel the way I do if you were just a monster!” she shouted, almost directly into his face and it took him nearly a full minute to register what she’d just confessed.

His mouth fell open, disbelief warring with desire and the remaining dregs of indignation. “The way you…”

“Fuck.” She squeezed both eyes shut, scrubbing her free hand over her face. “I told you I’m no saint, Mr. Gold. I’ve spent months - months - lusting after a married man. Practically stalking you, if you must know. Even knowing I shouldn’t… knowing how wrong it was. I couldn’t seem to stop.” She met his eyes again, her face grim.

He shook his head, “Belle, I never thought you were…”

She blinked at him. “You can’t tell me you didn’t know. That you hadn’t even noticed?”

He shook his head more vehemently.

“All those times I kept you at the library desk yammering on about books? The days I’d casually stop in the shop just to browse? God, am I that terrible at flirting?” The last question was asked more of her own feet.

Gold laughed a little giddily, his previous anger fading away, reaching cautiously toward her and tipping her face back up with a finger under her chin. “Belle… did I ever tell you that I have a rather vast personal library?”

She gave him an odd look. “Um, no. I don’t think you’ve mentioned it.”

“There’s a reason for that. It’s chock full of classic literature, plays, even a few modern classics. But I’ve checked out dozens - possibly hundreds - of books I already own. Just for the chance to spend a few minutes with you.”

Belle’s throat worked soundlessly, her breath catching as she looked at him in a state of what almost felt like wonder. “All this time… I thought you only barely liked me. Tolerated me."

“Oh aye,” his voice was low, his natural burr thick as he leaned toward her, tucking a stray auburn curl behind her ear. “I tolerated you. I’d have tolerated a lifetime of just standing there with a desk between us, fishing for anything useful to say. Just for the chance to be near you, enjoy the scent of that strawberry perfume you wear.”

Belle bit her lip, the corners of her mouth curling upward. “It’s shampoo but I don’t think anyone else has ever noticed that it smells like strawberries.” She smoothed a hand up his chest and over his shoulder to wrap around the back of his neck, toying with the ends of his hair in a way that sent sparks down his spine and straight to his groin. “I used to fantasize that you would lean across the desk and kiss me.”

“I had the same fantasy.”

“Did it include more than kissing?” she shot him a coy look, “because mine did.”

“Oh sweetheart,” he crooned, threading his fingers into her hair and cradling the back of her head as she tilted it up, “you have no idea.”

With a push onto her toes, she bridged the gap, pressing her lips to his in a lingering kiss.

Against his lips she murmured “I’ve wanted to do that for so long.” She pulled back with a sigh. “But you are still married. Technically.”

“Technically,” his lip curled as he forced himself to release the woman of his dreams. “I suppose it would be most appropriate to wait until I’ve at least finished filing the paperwork.”

With a baleful look, Belle ran her fingers through his forelock. “I’m awfully tired of waiting though, aren’t you?”

He nodded, taking her hand in his and kissing the fingertips. “And frankly, I've never been much for propriety.” One of Belle's fingers dipped between his lips and he nipped at it.

She gave a semi startled little giggle. “Are we terrible people if we do this?”

He nodded solemnly. “Horrible.” He ducked his head to plant tiny kisses down the side of her jaw. “The worst,” he muttered while nosing along her neck. She made a low sound of encouragement, tilting her head to allow him better access. He nipped at her earlobe, whispering, “the worst of the worst”, before lowering his head to plant an open mouthed kiss just at her pulse point. When he sunk in his teeth, she whimpered, bunching the silk of his button-down shirt in her hand.

“You know what?” she panted.

“Hmm?”

“I think I can live with that.” She let the blanket fall to grasp his face between both hands, pulling his mouth to hers for a searing kiss.

Thanking all his lucky stars and any deity that might be listening, Gold kissed her back with every ounce of longing he'd been holding back since the first time they met. Her hands fell to his buttons as he slid his tongue into her mouth. She practically yanked his shirt down his arms and he was grateful he'd removed the impediment of his cufflinks earlier that evening. She had already turned her attention to his belt buckle, treating it to the same wild abandon.

Not to be outdone, he gave a sharp tug to one side of her towel and it joined the blanket on the floor. Belle reached toward him but he staid her hands.

“I'd like to look at you, Sweetheart. May I?”

Her face, already pink from excitement, flushed a deeper red but she stepped back, nearly stumbling over the heap of towel and blanket. He steadied her then allowed his eyes to roam. Pert, rosy tipped breasts that looked as though they'd been made to fit in his palms, the slope of her waist led to rounded hips, a trimmed thatch of dark curls at their apex. She was, in a word,

“Exquisite,” he breathed.

Her eyes lit up and she wrapped both arms around his neck. “My turn to see you…”

He frowned, thinking of his narrow chest and wiry limbs, his ruined leg and sprinkling of silver in his sparse chest hair. “It won't be nearly as lovely to look upon.”

She pursed her lips. “Mm, I'll be the judge of that.”

He helped her remove his undershirt so he could keep hold of his cane with one hand at all times. Then she unzipped his trousers, kneeling as she pushed them down. His erection bobbed toward her, contained only by the final scrap of his dignity - his silk boxers. She smiled and planted a kiss directly on the head, through the fabric. He swore under his breath, silently vowing to keep that mental image until the end of time.

Her hot breath ghosted over his shaft once more and he felt his cock pulse in response. With another quick kiss, Belle hooked both thumbs into the elastic of his boxers and pulled them down. Gold swallowed hard, willing himself to be still as her half-lidded eyes devoured him inch by inch. He was just beginning to feel a bit twitchy under her scrutiny when Belle leaned in and kissed each of his hipbones. Then each of his thighs. She bent lower and lightly trailed kisses over his good calf before turning to the mass of scar tissue that made up his other calf.

She looked up at him. “Is this alright?”

He nodded, a lump in his throat prohibiting speech. His first wife had blamed the accident when she ran off. Cora had never deigned to touch his damaged leg at all. And the few lovers in between had mostly seemed to pretend it wasn't there.

But Belle, bright beautiful Belle, slowly traced the most prominent scarring with a fingertip before planting little kisses on each one. She kissed her way back up his leg, coming nose to nose once more with his jutting cock. Lightly wrapping one hand around the rigid flesh, she smiled up at him with a half-lidded kind of delight.

“You're perfect.”

Something in Gold’s chest felt as though it was swelling up, fit to burst. He wasn't sure if he wanted to laugh or cry but he knew that he'd never desired a woman more in his entire life. Mind, body, and soul. If she never touched him ever again after, he could live on the memories of a single night until they put him in the ground.

Without warning, Belle took him into her mouth. Gold’s knees nearly gave out and he clutched his cane so hard it felt like the handle might crack. He groaned at the sudden hot, wet sensation. Belle’s cheeks hollowed slightly and Gold swore aloud. She took him a little deeper then slid back out almost to the tip before swallowing him once more, as best she could. His heart nearly stopped altogether at the image of his cock, glistening with her saliva, disappearing between those greedy pink lips. Her head bobbed again a few more times, lips moving up and down his shaft. Gold, unable to do anything but moan and enjoy, watched her in wonder. At last, she pulled back, her tongue swirling over the head as she released him with an audible pop.

She looked up with an impish grin. “I’ve wanted to do that too.”

“Fuck me,” Gold pulled her to her feet and kissed her hard.

She gave a throaty little giggle before kissing him again. “I intend to.”

Gold attacked her throat and breasts with kisses, using his cane to support himself as he moved down her body. His mouth found one taut nipple and then the other, suckling and grazing with his teeth as Belle murmured her hearty approval. He swiped his tongue along the sensitive underside of each breast and Belle clutched at his hair, her fingers tugging at the strands. Her back arched toward him and he grinned against the soft flesh of her stomach, flicking the tip of his tongue playfully against her bellybutton.

Belle squirmed and giggled. “Tickles!”

He paused. “Hm?”

She ran a finger down the side of his jaw. “Your stubble.”

Gold ran a hand over his chin. “Mm, perhaps I should have shaved… before we….”

Belle shrugged. “Not worth stopping now. Besides, I don’t mind it a little rough.”

Gold quirked one eyebrow at her. “I’ll keep that in mind…”

She flushed prettily, biting her lower lip.

Gold nipped at the skin of her belly and Belle gave a little squeak of surprise that turned to a gasp of pleasure as he trailed his mouth lower, over her neatly trimmed pubic curls.

Lowering himself to his knees was not easy but he had managed to kick the blankets into a makeshift cushion. He released his cane and gripped her hips, running his thumbs over the crease of each thigh until she parted her legs. Her nether lips were already soaked and the smell of her arousal was making his mouth water. He lapped as far as his tongue could reach, tracing the length of her slit to gather her taste. She was ripe and musky, heady on his tongue. His eyes slid shut as he savored her but a twinge in his bad leg made him flinch.

“Oh!” Belle stepped away, coming back to her knees so they were eye to eye. “That felt amazing but… this can’t be a comfortable position for you…”

Shame heating his face, Gold nodded. Just this once, he’d wanted to forget his infirmity and do something dashing. He ought to have known such privileges were not to be his.

Belle’s brow furrowed. “Hey! I have an idea. Just, um, get comfortable on the blanket, okay?”

He obeyed silently, trying not to let his disappointment in himself ruin the moment. With some maneuvering, he was sitting on the blanket, bad leg stretched before him. Belle bounded across the room and despite his melancholy, sway of her pert little bottom didn’t fail to capture his attention. She threw open the cabinet from whence he had produced her now-abandoned towel and gathered all the blankets into her arms. He began to rise and help her as he caught on to her intention but she tutted at him to stay seated. He couldn’t help but be cheered by the way she bounced, totally unabashed in her nudity, creating a cozy little nest for the two of them.

Once she had finished, she lowered herself to the ground and beckoned him with the crook of a finger. He crawled over, mindful of the aching calf. They stretched out, side by side, and she ran her fingers through his hair, brushing it away from his face.

“Better?” she murmured.

“I don’t deserve you,” he replied, earnestly.

Belle rolled her eyes. “People don’t deserve other people. It doesn’t work that way. I like you. I want to be here with you. Frankly, I’ve never been so glad to be caught in a storm in my life.”

“Likewise,” he whispered, capturing her mouth, his hand snaking down between them to continue what he’d started with his tongue.

Belle gasped against his lips as he slid a finger inside her, the pad of his thumb brushing over her hooded clit. She flung her upper leg over his hips to give him better access. He stroked her gently at first, exploring her molten heat, relishing her soft little sighs and whimpers. She shunted her hips, urging him to go faster, harder. He obeyed eagerly, adding a second finger and crooking both digits in a way that made her thighs start to shake. Belle moaned her release, wetness dripping down his hand and sinking into the blankets between them.  She panted against his neck, her body quivering as her inner muscles fluttered with the aftershocks.

Gold could only hold her in awe, petting her softly until she made a kittenish noise and batted his hand away.

Drawing her head back to meet his eyes, Belle grinned widely. “You are very, very good at that.”

He flushed with pleasure, almost forgetting his own nearly painful need, throbbing against her thigh.

Belle reached between them to take him in hand, aligning him with her entrance. As the head brushed her slickness, Gold fought not to let his eyes roll back in his head. Then a singular rational thought made a terrible appearance. He frowned.

“Belle… I haven't got any, ah, protection…”

She looked at him, upper teeth sinking into her lower lip. Then her face lifted once more. “Oh! Wait!”

Jumping up on slightly wobbly legs, she ran to the small backpack she'd been carrying and pulled out a rose gold wallet. From that she plucked a condom and held it aloft between two fingers.

Gold blinked incredulously. “You forgot an umbrella but remembered that?”

Belle giggled, crossing back to him. “Look, I may never have been a Girl Scout but I do have a best friend whose motto is ‘be prepared.’”

Nestling back into the blankets, Belle tore open the wrapper and rolled the rubber onto his erection before pausing. He pulsed with anticipation in her loose grip.

“How do you want me?” she asked

 _All day, every day for the rest of my life_ , he thought giddily.

“Sorry?” he said aloud.

“What’s the best, um, position? For you?” she added, cheeks turning pink.

He swallowed hard and cleared his throat. He couldn’t remember the last time a woman had asked him that question. “Could we… would you mind… being on top?” His voice lifted embarrassingly high, as he pictured Belle’s magnificent breasts bouncing above him as she rode his cock to another gorgeous orgasm.

Belle nodded emphatically, her eyes aglow. “Absolutely.” She straddled his hips the moment he had rolled onto his back, lining them up and sinking down. His mouth fell open as he watched his cock disappear inside her, engulfed by her heat. Placing her hands on his chest, Belle rolled her hips and Gold groaned. He wouldn’t last long but he wanted to see her come again. One hand went to her clit as she settled into a rhythm she seemed to like. His other hand went to breast but she brought the fingers to her mouth, suckling them one by one. He swore loudly as both the image and the sensation sent sparks of electricity straight to his groin. He rocked up into her, meeting her shallow thrusts, still rubbing at her sensitive little nub. She was utterly amazing. She was a fucking goddess, getting herself off on his cock, and he was helpless with want, gritting his teeth to stave off his own building climax. He wanted this perfect, agonizing moment to last forever.

It could not, of course, and he could not regret the blinding wave of bliss that washed over him as he felt her inner muscles clamping down. Belle cried out, her head thrown back with abandon. She collapsed onto his chest, breathing heavily, and they lay in silence as both their hearts raced. He felt himself soften and reached beneath her to make sure the condom didn’t spill. Once it was tied off and tossed away, Belle curled into his side. They were both a sweaty mess and he thought that perhaps this moment was even more perfect than the last.

After a time, Belle broke the quiet. “It’s stopped raining.”

He had almost forgotten about the storm altogether. His chest suddenly felt tight, the muzzy warmth beginning to evaporate. “So it has. I... suppose that means you’ll be wanting to head home soon…”

Belle shrugged against him. “It may start up again. Besides… it’s awfully late… Don’t you think?” She ran a hand through his sparse chest hair, sending a pleasant shiver through him. “It’s probably not all that safe to be wandering around the forest at night.” She turned wide eyes to him, batting her lashes playfully.

The corners of his mouth twitched back upward as he caught onto her ploy. “Mmm, dangerous, in fact.”

Belle leaned in, brushing her lips along his jaw and down his neck. She nipped lightly at his collarbone. “Treacherous, even.”

His arm wrapped snugly around her. “Well, I suppose there’s nothing else for it. You’ll have to stay here for the night.”

“If you think you can bear my company a few more hours?” Her lips closed over his puckered nipple and his fingers involuntarily dug into the flesh of her hip.

“Oh, I’ll manage, somehow…” he breathed, pulling her back up to him for another kiss.


End file.
